Who the fuck reads poetry

Poets, prats and grandiloquents

Through sunlit keyholes

National praise afforded

Wine quaffed, so seriously sincere suckers

Those faces, my God those faces

Who the fuck decides, derides

Ambiguity, obscure

And so those cheesy lines mature

Aspire, retire, bonfire, you liar!

Random bollocks, of course, confess

No intellect for our address

Ha ha you plebs, it’s not for you

Stay back, behold our knowing clan

Oh this most highbrow wordy rank

And thus a platform be maintained

From which to hand around disdained

Yes!  be pained you bastards, yes!

Cosy, chummy, ass kissy, beards

And that’s just the women

You deniers of the country’s spoils

Custodians, guardians, pedlars of crap

Pile your heaps out of sight

For only your noses may savour what’s up your arses

But it stinks I tell you

It stinks

And as you feed upon that shit

So the common man recoils, indigestible

Fools

Self serving, ridiculous anserine fools

Do you ever stop to consider

You have failed, so satisfyingly

To illicit even the remotest of interest

Provoke the slightest spark out there

I feel I could go on, and on

I can’t go on

Yet on I go